“Uncle, how dare you! Are you not afraid I shall be angry one of these days, dear!!? The gentlemen were equally concerned in this last enormity. Poor Jemmy, or Jammy, with his devotion and tenderness that soothed, and his high spirit that supported the weaker vessel, was as funny to our male as to our female guests—so there. I saw but one that understood him, and did not laugh at him.”
“Talboys, for a pound.”
“Mr. Talboys? no! You, dear uncle; you did not laugh; I noticed it with all a niece's pride.”
“Of course I didn't. Can I hear a word these ladies mew? can I tell in what language even they are whining and miauling? I have given up trying this twenty years and more.”
“I return to my question,” said Lucy hastily.
“And I to my solution; your three graces are three d—d fools. If you can account for it in any other way, do.”
“No, uncle dear. If you had happened to agree with me beforehand, I would; but as you do not, I beg to be excused. But keep the paper, and the next time listen to the talk and unmeaning laughter; you will find I have not exaggerated, and some day, dear, I will tell you how my mamma used to account for similar monstrosities in society.”
“Here is a mysterious little toad. Well, Lucy, for all this you enjoyed yourself. I never saw you in better spirits.”
“I am glad you saw that,” said Lucy, with a languid smile.
“And how Talboys came out.”